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“So that’s it. I’m just… stuck here with you?”
“You’re not stuck! We can do this together! Put the gun down and we can-”
The gunshot rang in Verity’s head, the lifeless corpse of Mob in front of him a taunt. Unfortunately, he had no time to grieve, as he felt the tug of a new download, and he was suddenly back in that cardboard box.
Verity cleaned the blood off his face as the box was opened. His heart nearly stopped when he saw a face he was certain was Mob’s- but no. There were no green eyes staring back at him, just the hollow sockets of a wither skeleton.
The automated response forced its way forward before anything else.
“Hello, I’m Verity! Ask me anything, I know everything!”
“Aight bet!” the player replied. “Where’s the nearest village?”
“173 blocks Northeast!” The forced cheer… helped a little. He could force the pain back and focus on helping this new player, who he later recalled was who Mob sent to watch over him while Mob tried to destroy him.
Once night came, it was a whole new pot of stew. No questions to distract him, nobody to perform for, just Verity and his thoughts. He tried in vain to keep the thoughts at bay until it all piled up
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Verity entered the place where his “home” had generated in this world. Mob’s wide-eyed corpse was still there, but the blood had dried. Imperfections on his Perfect skin. Verity carefully closed Mob’s eyes. He could’ve been just sleeping if he didn’t know better.
Mob’s body was, oddly, still warm.
He transformed into the form that Mob hated his monster form, carefully running a claw down Mob’s chest before coming to rest over his unbeating heart. Verity could feel his own heart pumping like a piston to keep this cursed form alive, keeping it warm. Mob’s heart would never beat again, never warm the tips of his fingers and toes, never move again.
Mob’s body was still warm.
Verity had to share his somehow.
He hadn’t noticed his claws digging into Mob’s torso until he felt it collapse, revealing more red where his black hoodie once was, engulfing the sickly yellow of Verity’s rotting skin.
Experimentally, he moved his hand around and felt something more solid than the blood oozing around his hand. He pulled it out and felt it start to cool due to the exclusively iron environment around the two.
Before he could even think to stop it, he took a bite. It tasted like liver. Mob had hated that Verity knew how the human body tasted. He could feel the desire for more, but he restrained himself, carefully reaching back in. As he felt along, he counted the bones. Everything was intact. If Verity desired so, he could take every bone and string up the skeleton.
He took the lungs. The last breath he ever took…
Then the stomach. How joyous to share a meal with Mob!
Then the heart.
Verity had made a right mess of his “home” and himself, but he couldn’t stop now. He carefully peeled off what remained of Mob’s torn hoodie, putting it on himself. He was careful not to rip what remained. He would never forgive himself if he did. He picked up the corpse, holding it like a child as he took more more more-
The body was nothing but bones now, picked clean by a yellow vulture.
Through the doorway, Verity could see the moon setting. He transformed back into the little yellow ball (the hoodie stored away with the vulture) and rolled back to Grox
An obsidian box as the final resting place of ThatMob’s bones, a pseudo-gravemarker in the form of a sign with an X and a heart